


to want (and be wanted)

by cursedwurm



Series: regarding jonah magnus and his associates [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Jonah Magnus Week, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, unconventional love confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24736303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cursedwurm/pseuds/cursedwurm
Summary: Jonah wasn’t used to feeling like this. He’d never had to deal with this before; the pathetically imperfect adoration he felt for Barnabas Bennett went far beyond simple platonic affection or physical attraction, and despite how foreign it felt to want him in such a capacity, he couldn’t deny that it felt good.__Written with the prompt "Domesticity" for Barnabas Bennett as part of Jonah Magnus Week 2020
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus
Series: regarding jonah magnus and his associates [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794436
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43
Collections: Jonah Magnus Week 2020





	to want (and be wanted)

**Author's Note:**

> no one:  
> me: writes more jonahbas
> 
> this fic technically used 'domesticity' as my prompt but also that prompt was sfw and this has some non-explicit sex in it so,,,
> 
> please leave comments and kudos if u enjoyed, and hmu on Tumblr @snapdraqons if u wanna yell about the grand bastard (Jonah)

Jonah woke up as the sun crept through the gaps in the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a warm amber glow. The bedsheets were pulled over to the other side of the bed, gathered around Barnabas Bennett's legs. He smiled, watching as the golden beams of sunlight cast pale shadows over his lover, accentuating the gentle slope of his cheekbones and the unruly curls of the chestnut hair that framed his face. Barnabas had an arm flung around his waist and his forehead nuzzled against his chest. His skin was warm, pressed flush against his own where his nightshirt had ridden up, and Jonah watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he continued to sleep with their limbs tangled together.

It was rare that Jonah found himself in this position. He was, at his core, an academic. His goals in life were, for the most part, centred around his research and the ever-present hunger for knowledge that he constantly strived to satisfy. He had little time for meaningless social activities, for long-lasting intimate connections or for his own emotional wellbeing. If he attended dinner parties or celebratory gatherings it was not to socialise but to network. If he spent time with others, getting to know them until they let down his walls, it was because they had something (usually money) that would aid him in his research. If he spent a day, or even a week, taking care of himself, it was because his work had been suffering as a result of stress or fatigue. And if Jonah Magnus had another man in his bed, it was for one of the following reasons:

  1. To secure funding for his institute.
  2. To give something in return to those who assisted him in his research.
  3. To relieve stress.
  4. To tend to his own all-too-human physical desires



And yet there Barnabas lay, with Jonah’s chest beneath his head and his bedsheets tangled between his legs. He wasn’t there for any of the usual reasons - though reason number four had certainly been taken care of the previous night - but rather because they both _wanted_ him to be there.

Barnabas had _wanted_ to come over that weekend, to ensure he wasn’t “working himself to death” as he had put it, and Jonah had been more than happy to let him do so.

Barnabas had _wanted_ to drag him out of his study for dinner, and Jonah had made few protests as he abandoned his desk for the night.

Barnabas had _wanted_ to wrap his arms around him, to hold him closer and closer until their bodies felt one and the same. He’d _wanted_ to make him feel so needed, so _wanted_ that he’d cried against his neck in sheer bliss, basking in the heat of his body and the warmth of his touch. He’d _wanted_ him, completely detached from any of his research, in his purest, most human form - and Jonah had wanted the exact same thing.

Jonah wasn’t used to feeling like this. He’d never had to deal with this before; the pathetically imperfect adoration he felt for Barnabas Bennett went far beyond simple platonic affection or physical attraction, and despite how foreign it felt to _want_ him in such a capacity, he couldn’t deny that it felt good.

He looked down at Barnabas as he stirred and shifted in his sleep, moving a few inches so his head rested on Jonah’s shoulder rather than his chest. His arm remained wrapped around him, his soft pink lips gently parted as a thin line of drool slowly made its way from the corner of his mouth to the clean white cotton of Jonah’s nightshirt. Jonah lifted a hand to cup his face, tracing the constellation of freckles that lined his face and dotted his cheeks before tucking a section of his curly hair behind one of his ears. Barnabas has apparently disturbed by the contact; he groaned softly, voice hoarse from sleep, and his brow knitted together as his eyes slowly but surely, fluttered open.

“...How long have you been watching me?”

Barnabas’ voice was low and husky from sleep, barely louder than a whisper as he looked up at Jonah, shifting to snuggle into him. Jonah chuckled.

“All night, darling,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to his lover’s forehead.

“How classy of you,” Barnabas rolled his eyes in mock disgust as he moved off of Jonah’s shoulder, freeing his right arm, and lay on the pillow beside him, “Watching me sleep like some sort of degenerate.” He smiled, his words lacking any real hostility. His warm brown eyes reflected the early morning sun, and Jonah found himself cupping his face and tracing his cheekbones with his thumb, his fingertip just brushing over his lashes. 

“Has anyone ever told you you have beautiful eyes?” he asked.

Barnabas lifted a hand to hold the one on his face. “Yes,” he replied, “You have, on multiple occasions.”

“I’m right, though,” Jonah hums, taking in the way the flecks of hazel in his eyes catch the golden rays of the morning light as it penetrates the gaps between the curtains, "I could just stare at your eyes for hours."

“I’ll take your word for it, darling.”

The early morning sun continued to push through the curtains, and eventually Jonah forced himself out of bed with a yawn and a stretch that made his back click in a way that it shouldn't have at his age. He opened the curtains and let out a chuckle as Barnabas groaned at the sudden brightness, covering his face with the pillow.

"I thought we were sleeping in today?" he said, "Is that not the whole point of you taking some time off?"

Jonah raised an eyebrow at this, approaching the bed and pulling the pillow off of Barnabas' face. "Whoever said I was taking time off?" he asked, "I can't just _not work_ , you know."

Barnabas frowned, jutting his bottom lip out into something dangerously close to a pout as he grabbed Jonah by the wrist and pulled him back down to the bed. "Yes, you can," he said, "And you should. If you only rest when you absolutely have to you're going to end up pushing yourself too hard and making yourself ill."

" _Barnabas-_ "

"I'm not done, Jonah," Barnabas interrupted him, his voice firm enough to make him go silent, "That's the other thing- you need to learn to _listen_ to others when they try to help you. You are far too stubborn for your own good and one of these days you're going to work yourself to death."

Jonah sighed, sitting down on the bed beside him and leaning in to kiss his lips. "So you keep saying," he muttered. Barnabas kissed him back, but pulled away after just a few moments, sitting up against his pillow with a frown.

"Don't try to distract me, Jonah," he said, though he put up no fight when Jonah leaned in a second time, "I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you."

"Can't it wait, love?" Jonah pressed hip lips to the corner of his mouth, kissing down to his jaw, "At least let us have breakfast first."

For a moment Barnabas opened his mouth to object and he could tell he was weighing up his option. Logically, he shouldn't let his lover get his way quite so easily, but in that moment Jonah knew that logic was not nearly as powerful an incentive as the feeling of his lips, warm and inviting against his skin. He let out a sigh, somewhere between resignation and pleasure and slid his hands around Jonah's waist. "Fine," he whispered, "But you must promise me that we will discuss this sooner rather than later."

"Of course, love," Jonah smirked, "Whatever you say." Then, before Barnabas could even think to reply, he pressed his lips to his, cupping his face in his hands as he moved to straddle his thighs. 

Barnabas kissed him back, slow and languid as he tangled his fingers in his hair. Jonah tilted his head to the side as their lips slotted together with practiced ease, his lover's breath tickling his face as the kiss deepened. He pulled himself closer, his nightshirt riding up to his hips as he scraped his teeth lightly over Barnabas' bottom lip, eliciting a soft hum of satisfaction from the man below him. The stale taste of sleep still lingered on his mouth but Jonah didn't care, nipping at his lip and letting him taste his own with his tongue.

" _Barnabas_ ," he pulled away to breathe his name, his nightshirt bunched between his fingers. Barnabas looked up at him through his lashes with those beautiful brown eyes that Jonah could so easily get lost in.

"Yes, darling?"

Jonah's mouth went dry. "I…" He started to speak but stopped before he could form his sentence. There was a word on the tip of his tongue; it sat there, coating his taste-buds with an impossible sweetness that he both loathed and savoured. The end of his tongue touched the back of his teeth where they met the gum, ready to form a phrase he couldn't quite bring himself to say. He licked his lips and swallowed the words down, pressing a kiss to Barnabas' neck instead. "I… I want you, darling," he told him, "It's… it's embarrassing how badly I want you... in ways I have never wanted anyone else. Do you understand what I mean, Barnabas?" Their gazes met, and the silence between them was so overwhelming that Jonah could practically feel it, thick and potent as it hung in the air in the few inches of space between them. When the silence was eventually broken it was with a small, subdued chuckle that left Barnabas’ soft pink lips and immediately eased the tension between them.

“I understand,” he smiled, “And I feel the same.”

And then they were kissing again, the hazy slowness from before replaced with fervent bites and gasps as Jonah yanked Barnabas forward by the front of his nightshirt and pushed his lips aggressively against his. It was a mere matter of seconds before his tongue was in his mouth, teeth knocking together as Barnabas rolled over and pushed him down against the mattress. He gasped, grabbing the ample flesh of his lover’s thighs to pull him closer, the soft curve of his stomach pressed flush against his own. Barnabas’ touch was warm and pleasing, his voice smooth and rich like the purest honey as he whispered just how much he _wanted_ him in his ear.

Jonah had never wanted someone like this before, had never felt the need to _be wanted_ like this. But he did want Barnabas, and not a day went by when the man didn't cross his mind, when Jonah didn't _want_ him in some capacity or another. 

It was so much, maybe too much. It could get overwhelming at times, when Jonah would find his mind straying from finances and benefactors to Barnabas' smile, his laugh, his soft hands and oh-so kissable lips. It hurt sometimes because something in him knew that _want_ was far too simple a word for what he felt. _Want_ simply did not have the definition that correctly described the emotion that swirled inside him whenever he kissed his lover's lips or found himself lost in those beautiful chocolate brown eyes. _Want_ made it seem like his feelings for Barnabas were voluntary, that his desire to have him in his life was just that - a desire, rather than a burning, desperate need for him that enveloped him in a flame of adoration and devotion that he never wanted to go out.

Deep down, something in Jonah knew he only wanted Barnabas because he was too afraid to say he loved him.


End file.
